


Dial 1-800-HAWKEYE

by squadrickchestopher



Series: Filthy Porn Fridays [3]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Butt Dialing, Butt Plugs, Canon-Typical Violence, Cockwarming, Collars, Dom Bucky Barnes, Established Relationship, Jarvis (Iron Man movies) is a Good Bro, Kidnapping, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Restraints, Sub Clint Barton, Tony Stark Is Not Helping, Unexpected orgasms, traffic system as safe words, using butt plugs to communicate morse code
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-19
Updated: 2020-08-19
Packaged: 2021-03-06 01:27:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25995220
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/squadrickchestopher/pseuds/squadrickchestopher
Summary: Clint is taken captive while on a mission, and his comms are off. Luckily, Bucky has a way of communicating with him.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Clint Barton
Series: Filthy Porn Fridays [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1860367
Comments: 41
Kudos: 310
Collections: Clintucky Fried Bunnies, Winterhawk Bingo Round Two





	Dial 1-800-HAWKEYE

**Author's Note:**

> Third installment of Filthy Porn Fridays! Thanks again to the CFC server, this monstrosity is your fault and I love you so goddamn much for it.
> 
> Also filled my “cockwarming” square for WHB :D  
> Also verrrrry loosely fits "tech support" for BBB :D  
> Also fills gift/present for CBBBB, look at me go :D

Bucky’s been alive for a long, long time.

He’s seen war. He’s seen death. He’s seen torture and pain and anguish. He knows intimately what it feels like to have his own mind ripped away from him. He knows how it feels to have things at the edge of his memory, just barely out of reach. He _knows_ , and sometimes it’s too much to bear. Sometimes his head is so full that he just wants to get back in the Chair and wipe it all out. Start with a clean slate so he doesn’t have to _hurt_ so much.

Clint is good at recognizing those days. He has a knack for knowing when Bucky’s in his head too much, fixating on the past instead of the present. He also has a knack for pulling Bucky out of it, usually with gentle touches while curled up next to him on the couch in the lounge. He’ll run his fingers through Bucky’s hair, murmur reassurances in his ear, tell him stupid stories that mean nothing and everything all at the same time.

Sometimes, though, even that’s not enough. Sometimes Bucky needs something else to focus on. And Clint is good at knowing those days too. So when noon rolls around and Bucky still hasn’t shaken off the nightmare from last night, he just presses a kiss to Bucky’s forehead and says, “I’ve got a present for you.”

Bucky glances up at him, still hearing distant screams in his ears. “What?”

“A present,” Clint repeats.

“What is it?”

“It’s in my bedroom,” Clint says, looking around the lounge. “It’s...not exactly fit for company, if you get my meaning.”

He pulls away from Bucky as Tony walks into the room, sweeping Bucky’s coffee mug from the table with a smooth motion, like that’s what he was doing in the first place. They’re not exactly hiding their...whatever this is, but when they’d first started, Bucky had asked him to keep it quiet from everyone else. He didn’t want the eyes or the scrutiny, and he didn’t want Steve hovering over him, asking if things were okay.

Also, he’s a little afraid of how protective Natasha is over Clint, and he wants to avoid _that_ conversation as long as possible.

“Hey Tony,” Clint says. “How was yesterday?”

“Ugh,” Tony says, pouring his own coffee. “I don’t even want to talk about it.”

“Great.” Clint puts the mugs in the sink and turns, catching Bucky’s eye. “I don’t want to hear about it, so we’re even.”

“Me neither,” Bucky says, taking the opportunity to leave. He disappears into the hallway and goes into the elevator, punching in the code for Clint’s floor.

Clint’s rooms are the usual mess---arrows stuck into the wall, bed haphazardly made, various items scattered on the dresser. Bucky’s own rooms are pin-neat by comparison, but he doesn’t mind the tornado-like way Clint lives. It’s just reflective of who he is. Clint is messy, and a little off-balance, and hard to put into place, and he’s so goddamn perfect that it makes Bucky’s heart ache.

He’s never been much for love, but if there was ever anyone for him...it would be Clint Barton.

Bucky sits in the chair in the corner---after pulling two arrows out of the back of it---and waits for Clint. It doesn’t take long for him to show up, spilling out of the elevator with a brilliant grin on his face. “Hey you,” he says. “Sorry, I had to shake Tony. He wanted to talk about yesterday.”

“Anything interesting?”

“He thinks there might be a part two. They missed a few people on the mop-up. He’s guessing they’ll make a reappearance later this week. Something something nuclear weapons.” He waves a hand. “But you and I are off today, so I don’t care.” He goes to his nightstand and rummages around in the drawer, coming out with a small black box and some soft purple ropes.

“What’s all that?” he asks, arousal already spilling into him. He’s practically conditioned to it at the sight of the ropes now, what with all the memories he has of seeing them against Clint’s pale skin. He loves making intricate knots to hold Clint in place, using his hands for something beautiful instead of destruction. And Clint loves it too---being tied up and helpless, completely at his mercy.

“Your present,” Clint says. He holds up the box, then reaches back into the nightstand and grabs a second, smaller blue one. “Two, actually. Happy birthday.”

“It’s not my birthday,” Bucky says, tilting his head.

“Happy we-didn’t-die-this-week-while-on-dangerous-missions, then.” Clint tosses the ropes onto the bed and stops in front of him, eyes bright with excitement. “I mean, I can keep them for your birthday, if you want. We certainly don’t _have_ to open them now---”

“Give them to me,” Bucky says. Clint smirks and hands them over. “Thank you. On your knees.”

Clint smirks a little wider. “Make me.”

Bucky raises an eyebrow, then sets the boxes on the floor. “Try that again, sweetheart,” he says, putting his hands on the arms of the chair. “I said, on your knees.”

“I said _make_ me,” Clint shoots back, a mischievous look in his eyes. “Unless you think you can’t.”

Bucky gets up in one single motion, fluidly rising to his feet and taking a step forward. Clint’s taller than him, but Bucky’s broader, and he knows exactly how to use that to his advantage. “Of course I can,” he murmurs, lowering his voice and watching Clint’s eyes get a little wider. “But I was giving you a chance to be good for me.”

“I’m always good for you,” Clint says. He backs up a step, just enough to be out of Bucky’s space. “You said so last time.”

“That’s because you _were_ good last time.” Bucky reaches out and winds his fingers into Clint’s shirt, then tugs him forward. “You’re being a brat now.”

“You like it,” Clint says. He’s trying for confidence, but his voice is breathy, and Bucky can see the arousal reflected in his eyes. “You like bossing me around.”

“I do,” Bucky says. “Know what else I like? When you actually follow my orders.” He leans forward, and turns his voice into steel. “Get. On. Your. Knees.”

Clint drops so fast that he almost takes Bucky down with him. Bucky manages to keep his feet, though, and he slides his hand under Clint’s chin, tilting it upwards. “That’s better,” he says. “That’s where you should be.”

Clint makes a soft noise, eyes fixed on Bucky. He’s already getting hard, Bucky can see the outline of his cock pressing against his sweatpants. It’s intoxicating, knowing that he’s turned on just by this, just by Bucky ordering him to his knees. Bucky _loves_ it. Loves the way Clint tries to be big and brave, but still folds like wet cardboard at the mere sound of his voice.

“Come here,” Bucky says, tugging gently on Clint’s hair, leading him over towards the chair. “I have some presents to open, apparently.”

“You’ll like them,” Clint says, shuffling after him, still on his knees. “It’s---”

“Shush. This is a no-talking time for you.”

Clint snickers. “Good luck with that,” he says.

Bucky narrows his eyes at him, an idea already forming in his mind. “Get undressed,” he orders. “All of it. Right now.” Clint starts to stand up, and Bucky pushes on his shoulder. “No. Stay down.”

Clint heaves a dramatic sigh, but obediently yanks his shirt over his head and tosses it off to the side. It takes him a moment to work the pants down, and he almost falls over, but he manages it in the end, wiggling them off before tossing them in the direction of his shirt. Then he throws his arms out wide with a cocky grin, completely unashamed. “Like what you see?”

“Always,” Bucky says, taking a long moment to admire the expanse of skin and muscles. “You’re gorgeous, babe.”

Clint blushes, like he does every single time Bucky compliments him, and Bucky grins. He loves the dichotomy of this, how Clint’s got a praise kink that can be seen from space, but has no idea what to do when people tell him nice things. It’s funny, and it’s adorable, and Bucky likes complimenting him just to see his face get pink.

“You are,” he says again. “So goddamn pretty, even when you’re being a brat.”

Clint shrugs. “It’s my specialty,” he says, flicking his eyes up to Bucky’s face. “So, are you gonna open those, or you do want me to get the party started?”

Bucky sighs. “Gotta do something about that mouth,” he says. “Give you something better to do than run it all the time.” He reaches for his jeans, unzipping and lowering them enough to pull his own cock out before sitting down in the chair again. “Come here.”

Clint shuffles forward a little bit, then reaches for him. Bucky slaps his hand away. “Did I give you an order yet?”

“No, sir,” Clint rasps, eyes dark.

“That’s right.” Bucky wraps a hand around himself. He’s already half-hard, but he likes to watch Clint’s face when he does this. Likes to watch the lust and the desire in his eyes. “Come here. Gonna keep that mouth busy.”

Clint gets closer. “Can I use my hands?” he asks, eyes on Bucky’s own hand as it moves over the sensitive skin. “I want to touch you.”

“I like that you’re asking,” Bucky says. “But no. I don’t want your hands. I want you to sit there and keep my cock warm. That’s all I want from you right now. Think you can manage that?”

“Green,” Clint says, and Bucky gestures for him to go ahead. He closes his eyes, letting out an involuntary little groan as Clint’s mouth closes around him. It’s almost sinful, how perfect Clint’s mouth is. How beautiful he looks with his lips wrapped around Bucky’s dick.

“Give me your hand,” Bucky says, and Clint holds it up. Bucky settles it on his thigh, palm down. “You tap twice if you need off.”

Clint hums in acknowledgement, and Bucky just barely manages to keep himself in the chair at the unexpected vibrations. Clint’s eyes sparkle with amusement.

“Brat,” Bucky mutters, flicking his ear. Clint chokes back a little indignant sound. “You’re just asking for a spanking. You know that, right?”

Clint shrugs one shoulder, then flicks his gaze over to the boxes. Bucky leans down and picks one up. The smaller one. He flicks the lid off, then pulls out the thin strip of leather. It’s a necklace---

No. It’s a _collar_.

“Sweetheart,” Bucky says softly, running his fingers over it. It’s nothing particularly fancy, just a soft piece of leather with a clasp and an O-ring set into the front of it. “What’s this for?”

Clint taps twice on Bucky’s leg, leaving enough space between them to make it clear he wants to talk, not stop.

“Go ahead,” Bucky says, and Clint slowly pulls off him.

“You mentioned a few weeks ago,” Clint says. “When you tied me to the chair? You said you’d like to see what I looked like in one.” He gestures at it. “This was one of the less scary-looking ones.”

“I’m surprised you remembered,” Bucky murmurs, still looking at the leather. It had been a heat of the moment thing, really, just a passing fancy. He’d wanted to see something around Clint’s neck, something more permanent than just a ring of bruising kisses, and he wasn’t quite brave enough to try it with ropes yet. He’d whispered the idea in Clint’s ear, trying to work him up, get him even closer to the edge. It hadn’t really meant anything.

But apparently it had meant _something_ to Clint. Bucky looks down at him now, mouth inches from Bucky’s cock, lips still wet. Bucky gently rubs his thumb over them. “Are you doing this because you wanted to, or because I wanted to?”

“Both,” Clint whispers. “I mean---not all the time? But every once in a while. I thought it would be hot.”

“C’mere,” Bucky says, and tugs him up enough to fasten the leather around his neck. It _is_ hot, almost unreasonably so, and Bucky bites back the urge to just fuck him right here. “That okay? Not too tight?”

“It’s fine,” Clint says, his voice a little strained. He makes a move to touch the collar, then drops his hand down. “It’s really good. It’s green.”

“You can touch it,” Bucky says. “I want you to. That’s my mark on you, right there. This---” he hooks his finger in the O-ring and tugs slightly “---says you’re _mine_.”

Clint lets out a little moan and swallows hard, running his finger underneath it. “Yours,” he agrees, already breathless. “Yes.”

“Good boy,” Bucky murmurs, using the collar to pull him back down. “I gave you a job, love. Get to it.”

Clint takes a shaky breath and resumes his earlier position, which is made all the better by that little strip of leather around his neck. Fuck, it’s so hot. Bucky had thought it might be, but to actually _see_ it---well, it’s way better than he ever expected.

“You look amazing,” he says, tugging on the collar again. “You _are_ amazing. Remembering this for me. Making it into a surprise. What did I do to deserve you, huh?”

Clint blinks a couple times, but keeps his mouth on Bucky’s cock. He’s so hard, but he’s not making any effort to touch himself, even though Bucky never said he couldn’t. It’s---it’s _sweet_ , and it’s hot, and it’s an image that Bucky very much wants to commit to memory.

He leans over and picks up the second box. This one’s a little bigger, and when he lifts the lid, he recognizes the contents immediately. “Oh, _good_ boy,” he breathes, pulling out the purple plug.

This one they _have_ talked about. It was a late night thing, when neither of them could sleep, so they both wound up in the lounge, talking quietly and splitting a bowl of popcorn. The TV had flipped over to paid programming, and there’d been a twenty minute long commercial on sex toys.

“We should try that,” Clint had said quietly, gesturing at the screen.

Bucky had glanced over at the woman who was now gleefully modeling a prostate massager, and said, “So get one, then.”

Clint had sent him a few options, and Bucky had picked his favorites, and then there’d been nothing about it for a week. Bucky had assumed he’d lost interest, or was still choosing. But apparently it was just a matter of waiting for shipping.

“I like this,” Bucky says. “And in your color, too. Gonna look so good in you.” He hefts it in his hand. It’s almost L-shaped, with a smaller arm that’s wide at the top before slimming down to where it’s connected to the longer, narrow base.

Clint taps the box, and Bucky reaches back in, finding a little packet of instructions. “Oh,” he says, skimming through them, noting the little standout words like _wireless_ and _hands free_ and _app-controlled vibrations_. “You got the _fancy_ one.”

Clint nods. Bucky turns the toy over in his hand again, then reaches down and slowly pulls Clint off his dick. “I’m going to download the app,” he says. “You take this and get on the bed. You want to be tied up?”

“Yes,” Clint says immediately. “Please. Ropes.”

“Okay. Get everything ready for me.”

Bucky finds his phone and follows the directions, downloading the app. It’s got way more features than he was expecting---he can sync the vibrations to _music_ \---and it distracts him for a moment, lost as he is in scrolling through things. “This is awesome,” he says absently to Clint.

“Would be more awesome in _me_ ,” Clint says, kneeling on the bed. “Please and thank you.”

“I’d say you’re being polite,” Bucky says, stepping closer, “but that sounded like you’re being a little shit again.” He tugs off his own clothes, dropping them in a pile on the floor before climbing onto the bed behind Clint.

“You know me so well,” Clint says.

Bucky sets the phone down and picks up the ropes. “I do,” he says. “Very well. Which you might regret in a moment.”

“Oh yeah?”

The words are a challenge, as is the cocky grin, and Bucky slaps his ass. “Arms behind your back,” he says, and Clint moves them, gripping his wrists loosely. “You want just a basic tie, or something fancy?”

“Oh, _I_ get to pick?”

Bucky snorts. “Okay. Not with that attitude.” He picks up the ropes. “Forearms together. You know what I want.”

Clint adjusts his position. “Sorry,” he mutters, but Bucky can see how he’s biting back a smile.

“Sure you are,” Bucky says, winding the ropes around his arms. He loves this part---loves the contrast of purple against Clint’s skin, loves the way Clint just gets more boneless with each knot. It’s even better now, with the collar around his throat. Bucky presses a kiss to the back of his neck, gently biting at the skin around the leather.

Clint shudders in his arms and slumps a little. “Fuck,” he mutters, breathing heavily. “Okay, you know me. You win.”

“Shush,” Bucky says. He finishes tying the ropes and steps back to admire his handiwork. It’s nothing special, just a back-arm harness, but it looks so damn good on Clint that he just kind of wants to stare at it forever. “Color?”

“Green,” Clint says, doing his usual systems check. “All green.”

“Good.” Bucky gets off the bed and studies Clint, dragging his gaze all over the ropes. “You look so fucking pretty.”

Clint blushes again, his chest turning a light pink, and ducks his head a little.

“I mean it,” Bucky says. “You’re a work of art. I should put you on a wall.” He reaches forward and hooks his finger in the O-ring of the collar. “Come here.”

He helps Clint off the bed, then pulls him into a filthy kiss, sliding his other hand down over the curve of his ass. “Gonna wreck you,” he murmurs, squeezing hard. “Get you worked up and make you _cry_ for it.” He bites at Clint’s lower lip. “That sound like something you want?”

“Green,” Clint gasps into his mouth. “Oh god, _green_.”

“Good boy,” Bucky says, gently kissing his temple. “Turn around.”

He pushes Clint down until his chest is pressed into the mattress, then takes a moment to check the ties. He trusts Clint to speak up if something’s wrong, but he always likes to keep an eye on the circulation. “Good,” he says, palming Clint’s ass. “Did you charge this already?” He taps the plug.

“Yeah,” Clint says, pressing back into his hand. “Got it yesterday.”

“And you had the patience to wait until now? I’m impressed.” Bucky reaches over and grabs the lube off the nightstand.

“Don’t know what you mean,” Clint says, rocking his hips a little. “I have great self-restraint.”

Bucky snickers. “I can tell by the way you’re holding still right now.”

“You never said I couldn’t,” Clint points out, and rocks his hips again. “You know I need clear instructions. Sir.”

Bucky slaps his ass again. “Hold the fuck still,” he orders, and Clint stops with a little whimper of protest. “Don’t know why I put up with you, honestly.”

“Because I’m cute,” Clint says, turning his head to wink at Bucky.

“You’re something,” Bucky sighs, rubbing his hand over the fading mark. It looks good enough that he makes another one on the opposite side, smirking a little as Clint moans and rocks his hips forward again, rubbing off on the sheets. “I said stay still, doll.”

“Trying,” Clint says, and he does hold himself still after a moment. “Green,” he adds, locking eyes with Bucky, and answering the unspoken question.

Bucky loves that about him too. He knows he probably checks in more often than someone else might in his position, but he can’t help it. He _needs_ to know. It was one of the first things they’d ever established between them. Bucky’s spent too long with his choices taken away from him, and he’ll be damned if he ever does the same to anyone else. Especially not to Clint, who is willing to put himself in such a vulnerable position in the first place. So he asks, constantly, and Clint answers with enthusiasm every single time.

“Feet apart,” Bucky says, and Clint moves his legs a little wider. “Need a pillow or anything?”

“Green,” Clint says again, coming up on his toes a little bit.

Bucky lubes up his fingers, then slides one into Clint, smiling at the way he gasps a little. “That’s it,” he says. “Feels good, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah,” Clint pants, pushing back into it. “More, please---”

Bucky spanks him again. “You’ll take what I give you,” he says, slowly fucking him. “And you’ll thank me for it.”

“Bucky,” Clint whines. “Please?”

“You’re sweet when you beg,” he says. “But you’re not listening very well. What did I just ask for?”

Clint thinks for a moment, then says, “Thank you?”

“That’s better.” Bucky slides a second finger in. Stretching him out slowly, taking his time. He doesn’t necessarily _need_ this much prep, but Bucky likes to be thorough, and he likes to tease Clint anyway. Likes to get him worked up until he’s writhing for it, pulling against the ropes. Sometimes if he’s feeling particularly mean, he’ll make Clint come on nothing but his fingers, then fuck him when he’s oversensitive and sobbing for it.

Which is something they both love, but that’s not the plan for today. So he contents himself with watching Clint try to stay still, then reaches out and picks up the plug. “Color?”

“Green,” Clint mumbles, taking a shuddering breath. “Are you gonna---”

“Yeah.” Bucky presses the power button, raising an eyebrow at the short burst of vibration it emits. “Oh. That’s strong.” He takes it through all seven settings, testing each one for a moment in his hand. _Strong_ is an understatement, really. There’s one setting that makes it almost jump out of Bucky’s hand. “Jesus,” he mutters, getting a better grip on it. “Have you tried these?”

“Wanted to be surprised,” Clint says.

“Oh, you’re gonna be.” He pulls his fingers out, then swaps hands and pours a generous amount of lube on the plug. “You ready?”

“Yeah.”

Bucky eases it into him, keeping an eye on his reactions. “How’s that feel?”

“Awkward,” Clint says, shifting a little. “Can you move it?”

Bucky does his best, playing with the adjustable head until Clint’s hands suddenly clench into fists. “That do it?”

“Uh-huh,” Clint gasps, shifting again. “Yep, that’s---that’s good, that’s green.”

“Okay.” Bucky pushes it in a little further, settling the base into place. “That looks damn good in you,” he says, rubbing his thumb around Clint’s sensitive rim. “So fucking pretty, you are.”

“Thanks, Master Yoda,” Clint says, turning his head to grin at him. Bucky snorts and slaps his ass again, making him rock forward and whine a little.

“You’re ridiculous,” he says. “And you need to stop watching _Star Wars._ ” He reaches over to the nightstand and grabs a hand wipe, cleaning off his hands before picking up his phone. It takes a moment to wirelessly connect.

“How dare you,” Clint says. “ _Star Wars_ is fantastic, and I will nev- _aaaahshit_ \---” He cuts off with a raspy moan and buries his face in the sheets again, hips bucking against the bed.

Bucky turns the vibrations off. “Surprise.”

Clint’s shoulders shake with laughter. “Surprise,” he agrees, hands twisting in the ropes. “I thought you were kidding, but nope.”

“I would never,” Bucky says, rubbing a hand over the base of his spine. “How’d that feel?”

“Really good. Strong. Was that the lowest?”

“Yes.”

“Fuck.” Clint takes a deep breath. “You’re gonna kill me, aren’t you?”

“Just a little bit,” Bucky agrees. “I did promise to wreck you.” He turns on the vibrations again, grinning as Clint bites back a little yelp. “I always keep my promises.”

“Is it---“ Clint hisses as he takes it up another notch. “ _Motherfuck_ \---too late--- _oh god_ \---to apologize---”

“For what?” Bucky asks, still grinning. “Also, did you know this thing has custom vibrations?”

Clint lets out a whine and pulls against the ropes. “ _Bucky_.”

“Finish your thought, honey,” Bucky says, nudging the plug with his thumb.

Clint jolts forward a little bit, leg coming up like he’s about to climb on the bed. “I was trying to say,” he says, wriggling as Bucky pins him in place, “is it too late to apologize for being--- _fucking hell_ \---being a little shit?”

Bucky laughs. “I think so,” he says. “But if you want to try, I won’t stop you.”

“I am very sorry,” Clint says. “So sorry. _Unbelievably_ sorry.”

Bucky toys with the app. “You can download patterns from other people too,” he says. “Wonder what...this one’s like?”

He taps one at random, and is rewarded by Clint trying to climb up the bed again, his feet slipping on the carpet as he pushes himself up. Bucky pins him down again, leaning over him and pressing his mouth to Clint’s ear. “Stop trying to run away, sweetheart.”

“Sorry,” Clint gasps, trying to hold still and move at the same time. “I wasn’t expecting---holy _shit_ , Bucky, _yellow_ \---”

Bucky’s own cock is pressed against the base of it, and he can feel the vibrations too. “That is strong,” he agrees, immediately turning them down to the lowest setting at the safe word. “That better?”

“Yeah,” Clint agrees.

“You need it off?”

“No, just down. It’s good now. Green.” He pants a little bit, then says, “Takes getting used to. That’s all.” He turns his head. “Kiss me?”

Bucky obliges, making the awkward angle work for a brief kiss. “Gonna help you stand up,” he murmurs. “Gonna sit you in that chair, and I’m going to suck you off. If you ask very nicely, I might let you come. Sound good?”

“Sounds so fucking green,” Clint says, and Bucky kisses him again before pulling him up, both of them stumbling over to the chair.

“Sit there,” Bucky says, easing him down.

Clint sits carefully, his eyes going wide. “Jesus _Christ_ ,” he breathes, adjusting his position. “I---oh _god_ \---” Bucky waits, hand on the phone, but Clint shakes his head after a moment. “Okay. Green.”

“You sure?”

“Very sure.” He rocks his hips a little.

“If you come without permission, I’m still going to suck you off,” Bucky says sternly. “I’ll work you right up to the edge again and leave you there for as long as I think you deserve. If I even let you come again at all.”

“I know you will,” Clint says, a flash of memory crossing his face. “I’ll be good, I promise.”

“That’s right,” Bucky says, pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead. “You’re always good. Even if you need some help along the way.”

He goes over to the nightstand, and comes back with a strip of purple cloth. “Blindfold okay?”

Clint nods. “Green.”

“Good,” Bucky murmurs, and ties it off neatly. Clint swallows, his throat bobbing against the leather strip around his neck. Bucky groans softly and tugs it down, sucking a bruise onto the smooth skin underneath it.

Clint tilts his head to the side. “Fuck,” he breathes, squirming a little. “Bucky---”

“I’m here,” Bucky says, mouthing at the red mark on his neck. “Still here.”

“I know.” He shivers.

Bucky trails kisses down Clint’s body as he kneels in front of him. He takes a moment to drink in the sight above him. Clint’s mouth is partially open, purple silk wrapped around his eyes, and purple ropes tight across his chest. He’s just barely holding himself still, hips twitching in little aborted movements as he grinds down into the chair. “Bucky,” he whimpers. “Please?”

“Please, what?”

“Please, anything?”

Bucky smiles. “Okay,” he says, and leans forward, pressing open-mouthed kisses to Clint’s thigh, very deliberately avoiding touching his dick. “Anything.”

“You---” Clint visibly bites his tongue.

“You’d best watch that mouth of yours,” Bucky says, tracing his tongue up the clenching muscle of his other thigh. “I _will_ gag you.”

“You like hearing me,” Clint protests.

“I do,” Bucky admits. “But if you need help being good...”

Clint shakes his head. “I can be good,” he says. “I don’t---don’t need help.”

“We’ll see,” Bucky murmurs. “So...was there something you wanted?” He rubs his hand up over Clint’s knee. “You sounded like you wanted to ask for something.”

“Your mouth on my dick,” Clint grits out. “I want that.”

“Then you should ask for it,” Bucky says. He runs a single fingertip up Clint’s cock, tracing from base to tip, watching how his hips jerk into it. Clint moans softly and pulls against the ropes. He’s so hard, so desperate already, and it’s _gorgeous_. 

“Please,” he says after a moment. “Please suck my dick, Bucky. Please.”

“Technically still not asking,” Bucky says. “But I’ll allow it, because you’re begging so pretty for me.” He leans forward, gently teasing at the head with his tongue, drinking in the way Clint whines and tries not to move into it. “Keep making those sounds, I like---”

A different sound splits the air. A high pitched noise, that blares like a fire alarm, accompanied with flashing lights from the device in the corner above the door.

Then a polite British voice echoes overhead. “Mr. Barnes, Agent Barton. I am truly sorry to interrupt, but there is an Avengers emergency. The whole team is being called out.”

Bucky takes Clint’s dick out of his mouth. “You’re shitting me, right?”

“But we’re off today,” Clint says, breathless, his hips rocking forward. “Also, we’re in the middle of something?”

“It’s an emergency,” JARVIS says. “There are robots attempting to dismantle the Empire State Building.”

Bucky rubs his forehead. “There’s what now?”

“Robots, Mr. Barnes. They are currently destroying the Empire State Building. Thor has reported at least a thousand of them, and there are more coming up from a manhole in the street.”

“But...” Clint says. “JARVIS, can’t you tell them we’re busy?”

“Captain Rogers has requested all hands on deck.”

“Just for like five minutes?” Clint rocks forward a little bit. “I’m literally like...twenty seconds from having my mind blown, can you tell them we’ll be a little late---”

“Agent Romanoff has been injured.”

Clint freezes. Then he says, “Red,” but Bucky’s already scrambling for the medical shears they keep in the nightstand. He spares a sad thought for the ropes as he slices through them, easily pulling the trailing ends free. As soon as they’re off, he kills the vibrations.

Clint shakes his arms out and pulls the blindfold off, then gets to his feet. “Later,” he says to Bucky, still sounding a little wrecked. “I...shit. Later.”

“Later,” Bucky promises.

“You’re the best,” Clint says. “I really did like this, I swear.”

“I could tell,” Bucky says, steadying him as he stumbles. “Meet you downstairs in a few?”

“Two minutes,” Clint agrees. “Go.”

Bucky kisses him again, then grabs his stuff and bolts out the door to his own floor. There’s a nagging feeling that he’s forgetting something, but he shoves it aside. There’s more important things to worry about right now.

He scrambles into his mission gear, grabs a collection of knives and his favorite sniper rifle, then books it out to the lounge, almost running into Clint as he barrels through the door. Clint catches him and sets him back upright. “JARVIS said SHIELD’s got a car downstairs,” he says, slinging on a quiver. “And that Nat’s hurt pretty bad. Let’s go.”

They get to the fight just in time to witness Thor taking out at least fifteen robots in one go. Clint lets out an impressed whistle, then shoots an arrow and takes down one behind him.

“Good shot,” Thor says, smashing another robot with his hammer as it tries to shoot a laser beam at him. They look like _Terminator_ robots, right down to the eerie glowing red eyes and humanoid skulls. Bucky suppresses a shudder at the sight.

Steve comes running up, already bleeding from a cut on his cheek. “Where the hell have you two been?”

“Where’s Nat?” Clint demands.

“I’m here,” says a voice behind them. Bucky and Clint both spin to see Nat leaning against an upturned taxi, grimacing at a very dislocated shoulder. She pops it back in with a horrific sound of crunching bone, relief creasing her face instantly. “I’m fine, what are you freaking out about?”

“But Tony said---”

“Tony wanted you in the battle,” Tony says through the comms. “Because there’s a lot of robots and we could use a hand, and I knew that was the best way to get you here.”

“You _asshole_ ,” Clint snarls. “You told JARVIS she was hurt!”

“She was. Now she’s not.”

Natasha mutters something and shakes her head. “I’m okay,” she assures Clint, patting his arm. “I promise.”

Clint still looks furious, and Bucky can understand. He puts up with a lot of shit from Tony, but there’s some emotional lines that people _shouldn’t fucking cross_ , and pretending friends are badly injured is one of them. “That was manipulative,” Bucky snaps. “It’s our fucking day off, you dick, and you made him think his best friend was practically dying!”

“All I said was she was injured. Not my fault if you read into it.”

“If I may interject,” JARVIS says, “you indicated that it was indeed a life-threatening emergency, and instructed me to relay this to Agent Barton.”

Tony sighs. “Dramatic, all of you.”

Clint looks like he’s about to have an aneurysm. “Are you _fucking_ kidding me? You lied to me, and you lied to JARVIS!” His fingers clench around his bow. “He puts up with enough of your crap, is it really necessary for you to include him in your emotional manipulation bullshit?”

“It was a dislocated shoulder,” Nat sighs. “I’m fine, god.” She grabs a gun and shoots a robot. “We’ll do something about it later.”

“I’m terribly sorry,” Tony agrees. “But for now, since you’re here and we could use the help, why don’t you make yourselves useful?”

“Fuck you,” Clint snaps, reaching up to his ear. He flips his comms off and looks at Bucky. “I hate him. I _hate_ him.”

Bucky fights back the urge to hug him. “We’ll kill him when we get back home,” he promises.

Steve looks furious too. “I’m sorry,” he says. “I didn’t know he said that. I asked if he thought we needed more backup, and he---”

“It’s fine,” Bucky interrupts. “We’ll kill him later.” He looks at Clint. “We came out here...”

“I hate him,” Clint mutters again, nocking an arrow and firing over Bucky’s head. “We were supposed to be off today.” He nocks another arrow. “Nice relaxing day, just hanging out---“

His eyes go wide suddenly, and he ducks a robot laser before shooting an arrow at it. “Barnes,” he says, grabbing Bucky’s arm. “C’mon, Hulk needs help this way.”

“What?” Bucky asks, but Clint’s already pulling him sideways. “I didn’t hear anything---“

“I did,” Clint says, and pulls him into an alley. Bucky goes, a little confused. Fortunately, a swarm of robots descend on Steve and Thor, preventing them from following.

“You okay?” Bucky asks. “You look--”

“I didn’t take it out,” Clint says in a low voice. “I totally forgot, I was worried about Natasha and then I was really mad, and to be fair, it’s actually kind of comfortable...“ He trails off and rubs a hand through his hair, his face turning red.

Bucky stares at him for a moment. “Oh my god,” he finally says. “You’re still wearing the plug?”

“Yes?”

Bucky starts laughing. He can’t help it. “Oh for fucks sake, Clint,” he wheezes, gasping in a breath. “Only _you_.”

“It’s not funny,” Clint hisses, then relents a little. “Okay, it’s a little funny. Don’t tell anyone.”

“Who the fuck would I tell?” Bucky asks. “No one else knows about us, and even if I did say something, I’d have to tell them _how_ I know, and then they’re gonna think you and I just discuss our kinky sex lives on the regular.”

“But we do discuss our kinky sex life on the regular.”

“Because we are sleeping _together_ , you moron.” Bucky pins him against the wall, kissing him quickly. “Nothing you can do about it now. Just stay alive and try not to have too much fun without me.”

“I hate you,” Clint says, kissing him back. “Stay safe.”

“You too.”

They duck back out and into the street, just in time to save Steve from a robot kick to the face. Bucky loses track of time after that, lost in the heat of battle and the sheer amount of robots that are pouring out of every nearby manhole.

It takes almost an hour to get everything wrapped up, by which point Bucky is sweaty, tired, and extremely pissed off. He wants to go home and shower, then curl up in Clint’s bed and watch shitty TV together until he falls asleep.

The team slowly gathers themselves back together, everyone limping and covered in various scratches. “Ugh,” Nat says, picking a piece of robot from her hair. “So gross.”

Bucky looks around. “Where’s Barton?”

Steve glances up. “Thought he was with you?”

“I lost him about half an hour ago,” Bucky says. “He went to help Tony take out a group of them. Haven’t seen him since.”

Steve presses a hand to his ear. “Barton. Come in.”

“He turned off his comms,” Nat says. “Remember? He’s had them off and on the whole battle.”

Tony lands and flips his faceplate up. “Hey guys,” he says. “What’s with the long faces?”

Bucky rounds on him. “Where’s Barton?”

“How the hell should I know?”

“He came to help you!” Bucky fights back the urge to punch him.

Tony shrugs. “He did, and then he left. Something about Steve needing a hand.” He points at a long scratch across his armor, close enough to the codpiece to make Bucky wince a little. “Also, this is from him. Tell him his aim is getting sloppy; he almost took out Tony Jr. with an explosive arrow.”

Nat snorts. “His aim is perfect,” she says. “If he _almost_ missed, it was on purpose.”

Tony looks a little alarmed at this. “Oh.” He looks around. “So...what happened to him?”

“I don’t know,” Bucky says, a worried feeling gnawing at his stomach. “Come on. Let’s see if anyone with SHIELD knows.”

* * *

Clint wakes up with a massive headache, which is just really the crappiest way ever to wake up. _Dehydrated_ , he thinks at first, which is odd, because Bucky practically force-feeds him water after every time they sleep together.

_No. Not with Bucky. Battle. Robots. One of them hit you with a needle---_

Clint winces and tries to open his eyes, only to be greeted by more darkness. A blindfold.

“Been a day for blindfolds,” he mutters, trying not to think about Bucky’s mouth around his cock. “Yo! Anyone around?”

There’s no answer, and a distinct emptiness in his ears. Hearing aids gone, then. Either taken out or lost. Goddamnit, he hates reading lips.

Someone pulls the blindfold off, and Clint blinks his eyes open. He’s in a conference room, tied to a chair at the head of a long table. There’s three other guys in the room with him, one bald and dressed in a suit and tie, the other two in tight black tac outfits.

The guy in the suit and tie says something, and Clint shakes his head. “I can’t hear you,” he says. “If you want to monologue at me, you need to put my hearing aids back in.” He spots them on the table. “Those purple things right there.”

The guy gives him a _you’ve-got-to-be-shitting-me_ look, which doesn’t really faze Clint at all. He’s seen it way too many times from his teammates to be concerned. “Alright,” he says. “I’m just gonna take a nap, then. You let me know when you’re done with your evil guy bullshit.” He leans back in the chair and closes his eyes.

He feels the stomping of feet coming his direction, then the guy roughly fits his aids back into his ears. “Thanks,” Clint says, shaking his head to try and fit them into place better. Bucky’s the only other one who can ever get them in right. “So. I’m guessing you’re in charge. Is this your favorite way to make friends? Tying people to chairs?”

The man sighs. “This isn’t personal, Hawkeye. But I will require leverage to make your team listen to me, and you were the easiest to acquire.”

“I take offense at that,” Clint says. “I’m very difficult to acquire.” He twists against the ropes tying him down. He probably could get out, but he’d need a moment, and they’re watching him pretty closely. “What’s your name?”

“I don’t think you need that information.”

“You know mine,” Clint says. “Seems only fair and all.”

The man sighs again. “Franklin,” he says. “My name is Franklin.”

Clint looks at him for a moment, then starts to laugh. “You’re joking,” he says. “Is that your real name? Seriously?”

Franklin looks offended. “Yes. Is that a problem?”

Clint snickers. “You look like a turtle,” he says. “I just...you have a turtle’s name and you look like a turtle. I actually had one as a kid, and I gotta tell you, the resemblance is _uncanny_.”

“I...” Franklin looks at his muscle guys, who look just as confused. “I don’t understand?”

“It’s okay, shellhead,” Clint says. “You don’t have to.” He pulls at his arms. “So, what’s this about? You think my friends like me enough to come get me?” He bites back the little trickle of fear that says they won’t. “I mean, I’m pretty annoying.”

Franklin crosses his arms and sticks his head forward, which just makes Clint start laughing again. He really does look like a turtle, just like the little guy that he and Barney found when they were playing in the creek one day. He’s pretty sure they did name him Franklin, which just kind of makes the whole thing funnier.

“Whether they come get you or not is irrelevant,” Franklin says. “I intend to threaten your life if they don’t back off and allow my robots to retrieve the items I need.”

“Let me guess,” Clint says, thinking back to this morning, and his conversation with Tony. “Something something, nuclear weapons?” Franklin looks surprised, and Clint sighs. “Man, why do you have to mess with shit that doesn’t belong to you? Do you really need nuclear weapons? _Really?_ ”

Franklin launches into a speech that Clint immediately tunes out. He’s heard it all before, really. Self-righteous bullshit. He could be _home_ right now, naked and pleasantly blissed out with Bucky. Instead he’s here, tied to a chair in a conference room at what he’s pretty sure is the top of the Chrysler Building. And it’s this asshole’s fault.

Also, he has a goddamn butt plug up his ass---which, to be fair, is _his_ fault---but it’s just not helping the situation any. Despite his best efforts, he’s definitely got the beginnings of a boner, and he just---

A fizzing noise in his ear distracts him, and then the worried voices of his team spill in. “I don’t know,” Bucky’s voice says, and Clint feels something in his chest ease instantly at the familiar sound. _He’s alive. He’s okay._ “They haven’t seen him here, either.”

“I have not been able to acquire a signal,” JARVIS says.

Tony grumbles something. “Why not, J?”

“Agent Barton disabled my access to his comms, as they also double as his hearing aids and he disliked the intrusion of my access.”

“What? How the hell did he know how to do that?”

 _JARVIS gave me the schematics, asshole_ , Clint thinks viciously. He keeps an eye on Franklin, who is still ranting and raving.

“I assisted him,” JARVIS says. “I agreed with his desire for privacy.”

Tony grumbles again. “Fine. Fine! Start searching traffic cameras, security cameras, and anything else you can pull. Let’s see if there’s any footage of him getting nabbed.”

Clint shakes his head a little. _Okay, so they know I’m gone, and they’re looking. That’s good._ He’s pretty sure Franklin won’t kill him, so he at least has that going for him. Pretty much all he needs to do is sit quietly and wait for rescue.

Except right about then is when the plug starts buzzing away, and Clint just about jumps out of his skin at the sensation. “Fuck,” he mutters, shuddering a little. “No, no, no, this is _not_ the time.”

Franklin stops monologuing and stares at him. “Sorry?”

In his ear, the comm crackles to life again. “Still nothing,” Bucky says, and he still sounds worried. “Tony, anything on your end?”

“Not yet. I’ve got JARVIS scanning everything, and I’m about to go underground and see if the bad guys have a lair down here.”

Clint shifts a little in the chair, desperately wondering if he can maybe trigger the off button, or---

“Are you...alright?” Franklin asks, a confused look on his face.

“I’m fine,” Clint says, keeping his voice controlled. “I’m all good. Carry on. You were talking about how awful the government is?” He shrugs. “Which, I agree with, by the way. Not to the point of wanting to take nuclear weapons to it---” He stops, considers. “Well. Depends on what part. Anyway, carry on.”

Franklin looks a little taken aback, but Clint doesn’t really care. Although maybe he _should_ listen, because it’s probably boring, and he should be thinking about boring, unsexy things. Should definitely not be thinking about the last time he was tied to a chair, and considerably more naked than he is now. Should also not be thinking about Bucky’s hand around his cock, or the way he’d worked Clint up to the edge of orgasm, and then whispered in his ear about wanting to see him in a collar.

Clint swallows, suddenly remembering the strip of leather around his neck. He’d forgotten about that too, lost in the confusion about everything else. It’s familiar already, like he’s been wearing it forever, and Clint thinks that maybe he wouldn’t actually mind doing just that. God, the way Bucky _looked_ at it when he realized what it was---

He bites off a moan as the faint trickle of arousal becomes full-blown. Between the plug vibrating, and the collar, and being tied to a chair...well, he’s going to be really goddamn lucky to make it out of here without coming in his pants.

 _No coming without permission_ , he thinks suddenly, and starts laughing again. He can’t help it. This is too fucking funny.

Franklin stares at him again. “What _now?_ ”

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” Clint says, still laughing. “I promise.”

Franklin looks pissed. “Listen, Hawkeye---”

The plug suddenly turns up a notch, and Clint jolts forward in the chair with a strangled, “Jesus _Christ_.”

In his ear, Bucky’s voice comes back on the comms. “JARVIS,” he says. “Um. How are you with Bluetooth signals?”

“In what capacity, Mr. Barnes?”

“Boosting them.”

Tony’s voice comes on, sounding strained. “What are you talking about, Barnes?”

“I think I might have a way to find Clint?”

“Spill.”

“I might have...GPS on him?”

“How?” Steve asks. “Are his comms on again?”

Bucky sounds distantly uncomfortable. “No, it’s not his comms.”

“Then how the hell---” Tony starts, but JARVIS interrupts him.

“I understand what you are talking about, Mr. Barnes. If you give me access, I can both pinpoint the GPS and boost the Bluetooth signal.”

“Yeah,” Bucky says. “Okay, let me open the app, hang on---”

Franklin is saying something, but Clint has no idea what. He can’t focus on that, not when the plug is pressing across his prostate, and vibrating intensely, and his teammates are talking in his ear. It’s too much, it’s too _much_ , he’s gonna---

Franklin crosses the room in three quick steps, getting within arm’s reach of Clint. “Are you even listening to me?”

“Can’t,” Clint gasps.

In his ear, he hears Bucky say, “Got it---oh shit, no---”

“What,” Clint starts, but then the plug goes from a pleasant buzz to a goddamn earthquake, practically vibrating his soul out of his body. At the same time, Franklin hauls back and slaps him across the face, hard enough to snap his head to the side.

The bright spot of pain absolutely shatters the last of his control, and Clint’s vision whites out as he comes, pulling hard against the ropes in an attempt to ground himself to earth. “Fuck,” he says, although it sounds more like a broken whimper. “Oh, _god_.”

The plug stops, which is good because Clint’s pretty sure he just _died_. There’s a ringing in his ears, and everything is kinda hazy, like he’s suspended underwater, weightless and floating.

Eventually, he drags in a deep breath, and forces his eyes open. Franklin is staring at him, his face a hilarious mixture of confused and horrified. “Did you just...” he starts, then trails off, eyes moving down to Clint’s pants.

“Uh,” Clint says, because what the fuck is he supposed to say? It’s pretty obvious what just happened. “I, um...”

Franklin looks at his hand, then at Clint’s face. He can feel the mark on it now, the burning spot where Franklin had hit him. It still feels good, in that weird kind of way, endorphins from his orgasm chasing away the sting of it. Clint’s always liked a little pain with his sex---nothing too crazy, but he likes having his hair pulled, or a spanking, or the way Bucky sometimes pushes him through oversensitivity and into another orgasm. It adds a little flavor to things.

He doesn’t know how to say that to Franklin, though. Is there a good way to lay all that out? _Well you see, Turtle Man, my boyfriend and I were having some mind-blowing sex when you decided to unleash your stupid robots, and because of that I forgot to take out this really fantastic butt plug I’m wearing, and it’s been vibrating for the last ten minutes and I was already kind of on edge, and I like things a little rough, so when you slapped me---_

“Stop laughing!” Franklin yells, and Clint drags himself back to the moment, suddenly realizing that he is laughing, and there’s not a damn thing he can do about it.

“I’m sorry,” he says, getting the words out between giggles. “It’s just---it’s been a weird fucking day---you would not _believe---_ ”

Franklin throws his hands up and storms away, and Clint tries to tune back into what his teammates are saying. Their voices are overlapping, but he can pick out Bucky and Tony arguing pretty easily.

“---pinpointed, he’s in the Chrysler building---”

“How the fuck are you doing that? J! What is he tracking him with?”

“Don’t tell him, JARVIS.”

“JARVIS, tell me!”

“Frankly, sir, it’s really none of your business.”

“The hell it’s not, Birdbrain is my teammate too---”

“Barton wouldn’t _be_ in trouble if you hadn’t lied to us, you asshole.”

“Mr. Barnes has a valid point, sir.”

“Oh come on, you guys were fucking around at home, you weren’t even doing anything important---”

Clint snickers again. He’s probably a little loopy at this point, but the idea of Tony saying _fucking around_ without having any idea that that’s what they were actually doing---

Franklin aims a gun at him, and Clint wrestles himself under control, the amusement fading slightly. He’s pretty sure that Franklin won’t kill him, but it’s certainly looking like he’s willing to dole out a flesh wound or something.

“Gonna have trouble shooting me with the safety on,” he says anyway, because he has a chronic inability to keep his fucking mouth shut.

Franklin looks at the gun. “It’s not on.”

“Made you look.” He grins, and braces himself for a shot. Probably not worth it, but he’s the world’s biggest little shit, and if he’s gonna get hurt anyway, he might as well have some fun with it.

Franklin steps closer and slaps him again, then grabs Clint by the collar, hooking his finger into the O-ring as he shoves the gun under Clint’s chin. It’s probably supposed to be intimidating, but all Clint can think of is _Bucky_ using the collar to pull him around, and so his little yelp of surprise sounds a hell of a lot like a moan.

“What the fuck,” Franklin says, immediately letting go. “Are you---do you _get off_ on this?”

“Well,” Clint says, working his jaw a little--- _guy’s got a hell of an arm_ \--- “Do you really want an answer to that?”

Franklin looks disgusted again. Clint probes his split lip with his tongue. “Don’t judge me,” he says. “I can’t help what I’m into.”

“What the _fuck_ ,” Franklin mutters, and steps back completely, setting the gun down on the table. Clint breathes a little sigh of relief. “There’s something wrong with you.”

“Probably,” Clint says. “You should just let me go.”

Franklin looks very much like he’s seriously considering it, and Clint lets himself imagine that for a moment. _Nat always did say I’d be the only one who could annoy a villain into letting me go._

Although this is less _annoy_ and more _horrify_ , but still. He’ll take what he can get.

“Or you can hit me again,” he says with a casual wink. “You know. Either way I’m happy.”

Franklin’s jaw clenches, like he’s about to say something. Then he shakes his head and turns to the muscle guys. Clint snickers to himself.

Bucky’s voice echoes in his ear. “JARVIS, are you ready?”

“I believe I have increased the signal to the necessary strength,” JARVIS says.

Clint blinks. _What the fuck are they talking about?_

“Okay, here goes,” Bucky mutters, and inside Clint, the plug vibrates again.

“Oh god,” he hisses, leaning forward. It’s almost painful this time, as sensitive as he is from the last orgasm. The good kind of painful, but also distinctly _not_ , and if he were with Bucky, he’d probably call yellow right about now.

But he can’t call yellow, all he can do is sit here and take it, and _that_ thought’s doing things to him all on its own.

The buzzing stops, then starts again. It’s a weird pattern, really. If they were in the bedroom, Clint would say it was Bucky just trying to work him up, keep him guessing. But they’re not in the bedroom, and the pattern seems oddly distinctive anyway, like a Morse code kind of---

“Oh my GOD,” he says, suddenly understanding. “You have got to be fucking _kidding_ me.”

Franklin looks at him, but Clint ignores him. He closes his eyes, trying to concentrate on the pattern, thinking back through the first bits. It takes him a moment to parse it out, distracted as he is by the fact that Bucky is communicating with him through a goddamn butt plug.

There’s a long pause, and then it starts up again. Clint grips the arms of the chair and _forces_ his mind to focus on the pattern. _W...e...a...r...e..._

The plug stops, blessedly, and Clint mentally translates the last little bit. He’s half-hard again, his body already getting with the program. “Not now,” he hisses at his dick. “Not the time, I’m trying to think---”

“Who are you talking to?” Franklin asks.

“Myself,” Clint snaps. “I’m a little weird, just roll with it. Everyone else does.” He closes his eyes again. _I...n...g...coming? We are coming?_

“You and me both,” he mutters, then starts laughing again.

“Goddamnit,” Franklin says. “I’ve had it. Find something to gag him with.”

“I can be good!” Clint blurts out, then feels his face heat up. “I mean---”

Franklin’s eyes just about bulge out of his head. “You _what?_ ”

Clint is pretty sure his face is going to be bright red for the rest of eternity. “Nothing,” he finally squeaks out. “I didn’t---oh my god---I’m going to _murder_ Bucky---”

“What the hell is wrong with you?”

 _Thanks to my boyfriend, I have a Pavlovian response to people threatening to gag me?_ “Nothing,” he says. “Well, maybe something. I don’t know, really.” He bites his lip, fighting back another hysterical giggle, because it’s fucking funny that this is more embarrassing than coming in his pants was.

 _You’ve got your wires all crossed, buddy,_ he thinks, and bites his lip harder.

The plug starts vibrating again, and Clint jumps a little, shaking the chair. The motion settles the plug more firmly against his prostate, which doesn’t help at all. And the irregular pattern is oddly arousing in its own right, distracting him to the point where he has to focus on his breathing just so he doesn’t come in his pants _again_.

“Bucky’s not gonna be happy with you,” he mutters, and lets out a little snort laugh. The plug stops, then starts up again, the same repeating pattern.

Clint looks up and meets Franklin’s still-wide eyes, then tries for a smile that’s probably more of a grimace. “This isn’t going the way you thought it would, is it?”

“Are you talking to someone?” Franklin asks, eyes flicking to Clint’s hearing aids.

“No,” Clint says, desperately trying to keep a straight face and also figure out what the hell Bucky’s saying. “My boyfriend’s butt-dialing me.”

He finally picks out the code. O-N-E-M-I-N-U-T-E-B-E-R-E-A-D-Y.

“One minute,” he mutters. “Okay. Sure.”

Franklin’s mouth thins into a line. “Look,” he starts, and then the window behind Clint suddenly shatters into pieces with an ear-splitting crash.

Clint ducks his head as much as he can. Franklin yells and dives for the gun on the table, but there’s the familiar whine of a repulsor, and a blast of light nails him in the chest. Two more blasts take out the muscle guys, and then Tony lands in front of Clint and flips his faceplate up. “Hey birdbrain,” he says, brown eyes filled with relief. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” Clint says, and he can hear the happy voices on the other end of his comms. “Untie me.”

“You look a little---”

“I’m fine,” Clint repeats, with more force than is probably necessary. He appreciates the rescue, but he’s still a little pissed off at Tony for bringing him out here in the first place.

“What did he do to you?”

“Who?”

Tony stares at him, then gestures at Franklin. “Him?”

“Oh, him.” Clint glances over his shoulder. “He hit me a couple times. No big deal.” He gets up. “Everyone else okay?”

Tony is still staring at him. “Where’d you get the necklace?”

“I bought it,” Clint says, which isn’t technically a lie. “A couple weeks ago. I---” He slams a hand on the table as the plug starts vibrating again. T-U-R-N-Y-O-U-R-

He reaches up to his ear and flicks the comm on. “Stop it,” he hisses. “I’m here, I’m fine, _stop_ it.”

There’s a chorus of voices on the other end, varying between confused and concerned. Underneath it all, though, he can hear Bucky laughing quietly. “Glad to hear it, Barton,” he says. “You coming anytime soon?”

“Shut the fuck up,” Clint says. “I’m going to---” He stops, meeting Tony’s very confused gaze. “Never mind. Let’s go.”

“Are you _sure_ you’re okay?” Tony asks.

“You don’t get to be concerned about me,” Clint says, pointing a finger at him. “It’s your damn fault I got tied up here in the first place.”

Tony actually looks ashamed of himself for a moment. “Yeah,” he says, eyes flicking down to the floor. “It’s been forcefully brought to my attention that that was...not a good thing to do.”

Clint blinks. “It wasn’t,” he says, a little surprised. “I mean, if you want our help next time, you can just ask?” He rubs his forehead, then says, “Just...Nat’s important to me, and when you said she was hurt---”

“I know.” Tony taps his fingers on the table. “Um...you want pizza? I’ll buy. Whatever you want. Even pineapples.”

Clint studies him for a moment, then takes that for the apology that it is. He’ll probably never get the actual words out of Tony, but that’s honestly fine with him. He has a hard time with that too. “Okay. Sure.”

Tony breathes a sigh of relief. “Good.”

T-H-A-T-W-A

“Bucky fucking Barnes,” Clint snaps, his legs going a little wobbly. “I swear to god if you don’t knock it off right the fuck now---”

“What is he _doing?_ ” Tony asks, and Clint can hear the desperate curiosity underneath the forced casualness. “How did he know how to find you? Do you two have some secret way of communicating or something?”

“It’s none of your business,” Clint says, gritting his teeth as the vibrator settles into a low buzz---just enough to be noticeable, but not enough to get him off. _Goddamn it, Bucky, when I get down there, I’m going to either hug you or kill you._

“I think it should be,” Tony says. “I mean, he was able to find you when none of the rest of us could. That just seems like an advantage we should all know about.” He taps his helmet. “JARVIS, since he’s forgiven me, do you think you could---”

“I remain as committed as ever to the personal privacy of all team members,” JARVIS says. “If Mr. Barnes and Agent Barton do not wish to share their methods, then I will not divulge them either.”

“I brought you into this world, J,” Tony threatens. “And I can---”

“Tony!” Steve snaps. “Would you please just get Barton down here so we can all go home?”

“And the bad guy,” Nat adds. “Someone grab him too.”

“I’ve got baby bird,” Tony says. “Point Break, come up here and get the rest.” He reaches out for Clint. “If I may?”

“Whatever,” Clint says, and lets Tony wrap him in a bear hug. He knows it’s the easiest way for Tony to grab him, but all it does is press his dick against Tony’s thigh, which just sends more happy signals to his brain. “Don’t drop me.”

“I would never,” Tony says, sounding offended. “Clench up, Legolas.”

Clint buries his face in Tony’s shoulder and stifles a snort. _Buddy, you have no idea._

* * *

Bucky watches Tony land, carefully depositing Clint on the ground. Clint’s face is red, and there’s a distinct shine of tears in his eyes. He looks _wrecked_ , and Bucky can’t stop the grin from spreading across his face, even as he fights the urge to pull Clint into a dramatic movie-style kiss.

“Hey, Barton,” he says. “You have a hard time up there?”

“I’m going to kill you,” Clint says, a myriad of emotions running across his face. “Slowly.”

The rest of the team looks back and forth between them. “Is there something going on here?” Steve asks.

Natasha studies the two of them for a moment, and Bucky shifts uncomfortably under her scrutiny. “What?”

“Oh,” is all she says, understanding lighting her face. “I get it.”

“I don’t,” Tony says. “Fill me in.”

Bucky glances at Clint, who shrugs a little. _Up to you,_ his eyes say, even as Bucky can see him desperately trying to keep himself under control. Bucky takes pity on him for a moment and kills the vibrator, then tucks his phone away. “Come here,” he says, holding out his arms, and Clint immediately barrels into them.

“What the fuck,” Tony says.

Bucky flips him off as Clint pulls him into a kiss, desperate and probably a little more obscene than is really called for. But hey, if they’re gonna break the news, they might as well do it with flair.

“What the fuck,” Tony says again. “Are you---are you guys together?”

“No,” Clint says, breaking it off as he loops his arms around Bucky’s neck. “I’m just his booty call.”

Bucky bursts out laughing, nearly making both of them fall over. “I adore you,” he says, putting his hands on Clint’s waist to steady them. “So fucking much.”

“Same,” Clint says, grinning at him.

“Wait.” Tony still looks dumbfounded. “How long has this been going on? What the hell?”

Clint leans his head on Bucky’s shoulder, still holding onto him. Bucky’s not sure if it’s because he wants to be close, or because he’s trying to hide the erection pressed against Bucky’s thigh. Probably both. “About half a year,” he says to Tony, then rubs a hand up Clint’s spine, lowering his voice so only Clint can hear him. “Color?”

“Yellow-green,” Clint says, lowering his voice too. “I kind of want it out, but also if you could finish what you started, you fucking menace, that would be _great_.”

“That sounded a lot like an order, sweetheart,” Bucky murmurs. “Wanna try that again?”

“Please take me home and finish what you started?” Clint asks, shifting against him. He moves his head enough to see Bucky, then adds with a grin, “You fucking menace.”

Bucky slaps him on the ass. “Brat,” he says, then suddenly remembers they’re still surrounded by the rest of the team. “Uh...”

Steve shakes his head, looking both amused and embarrassed. “I’m out,” he says, his face a distant shade of pink. “I’m gonna go help SHIELD. Tony, close your mouth and come with me.”

Tony’s mouth is indeed hanging open, and Steve has to forcibly pull him away from the group. Thor’s still off with the bad guys, and Bruce is still Hulking out somewhere, so that leaves just Nat, looking at both of them with an unreadable expression.

Bucky braces himself for the shovel talk, but all Nat does is smile sweetly at him. “I know where you sleep,” she says, then steps over and kisses Clint on the cheek. “Glad you’re okay.”

“You too,” Clint says to her.

She walks off down the street, and Bucky lets out a sigh of relief. “That went better than expected,” he says.

“Yeah,” Clint says. He leans his head on Bucky’s shoulder again. “I’m glad you’re okay.”

“You were the one in danger.” Bucky kisses his hairline, still stroking a hand up and down his back. “I’m a little sorry about the whole plug thing, but it was the only way I could communicate with you.”

Clint snickers and shakes his head. “I could hear you guys, you know. I mute my mic sometimes in battles, but I can always hear _you_.”

Bucky blinks. “Wait, you could hear us?”

“Yeah.” Clint laughs a little. “So not that the plug thing wasn’t genius, because it kind of was, but it wasn’t really necessary.” He laughs more. “Freaked out bad guy Franklin, though. Because that moment when you turned it up---”

“That was an accident,” Bucky says immediately. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t realize it was already on, and then when I opened the app I accidentally turned it up all the way---”

“It’s fine,” Clint says, still laughing. “It’s just funny, because at the same time you did that, Franklin slapped me, and I, uh...” He buries his face in Bucky’s neck for a second, shoulders shaking.

“You what?”

“Came in my pants,” Clint manages. “I didn’t mean to, but it all happened at the same time and I just---” He breaks off with a fit of giggles.

Bucky laughs too. “You did not,” he says, and Clint nods desperately. “Oh my god, what did he say?”

“Let’s just say he was surprised,” Clint says. “As was I.”

“Oh my _god_ ,” Bucky says again, and he staggers a little bit, trying to keep them both upright as they laugh. “Only you, Clint.”

“Hey!” Clint looks at him, indignant. “You’re the one who turned it up, the hell else was I supposed to do?”

“You’re the one who forgot to take it out, honey,” Bucky says, kissing the tip of his nose. “Which worked to our advantage here, but you can’t blame me for that one.”

“No, I’m blaming Tony for that. He made me panic.” Clint sighs, then adds, “He offered pizza as an apology.”

“Did you accept?”

“I did.” Clint gestures down the street. “So. I vote we go finish this, eat a questionable amount of pizza, then curl up in my bed and watch crap TV until we fall asleep. Sound good?”

Bucky kisses him, then reaches up and hooks his finger in the collar. “Sounds perfect,” he says, grinning at the little moan Clint makes. “Although I was thinking we should make use of your giant tub tonight, too. Run a nice hot bath so I can get you cleaned up, maybe?” He reaches between them, pressing his hand against Clint’s dick. Clint gasps a little and rocks into it. “You made a bit of a mess, you know.”

“Not my fault,” Clint mutters, pushing into his hand. “Fucking menace.”

Bucky snickers and kisses him again. “Mmhm. That something you want?”

“Yes, please.”

“Okay.” He takes his hand off the collar and wraps it around Clint’s waist. “Come on, then. Let’s go home.”

They start walking down the street, and Bucky revels in the fact that they’re both okay, and that he can now do things like this _all_ the time---no more sneaking kisses, no more dropping hands when someone comes into the room. Clint’s _his_ , and he can show it to the world.

Clint glances at him, then smiles. “I’m glad they know,” he says. “This is nice.”

“Agreed.” Bucky kisses his forehead.

Clint smiles wider, then snaps his fingers. “Oh, hey. We should leave a review on the website.”

“What?”

“For the plug.” He laughs. “Highly comfortable, durable battery, very discreet.”

“Amazing Bluetooth signal,” Bucky adds. “User friendly app, easy to navigate in high-stress situations.”

“Custom vibrations are a lifesaver,” Clint snickers.

Bucky laughs. “I saved those, by the way. For future use.”

“Awesome,” Clint says. “It’ll be nice to feel that when I’m not tied to a chair and trying to figure out what they’re saying.”

Bucky nudges him. “No, you’ll _definitely_ be tied to a chair.” He considers. “Maybe I should make new ones, and you have to figure out what they’re saying before I let you come.”

“That’s so mean,” Clint pouts.

“You’re interested, aren’t you?”

“...maybe.”

Bucky grins. “Not today,” he says. “You’ve had a rough time. We’ll get you home, get you off, then get you in the tub. Sound good?”

“Sounds perfect,” Clint says, twisting to kiss him. “Looking forward to it.”

“Me too,” Bucky says, kissing him back. “Me too.”

**Author's Note:**

> I'm on [tumblr!](https://feedmecookiesnow.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Beta'ed as always by the lovely [clintscoffeepot](https://archiveofourown.org/users/clintscoffeepot/pseuds/clintscoffeepot). Thank you!


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